


Complex Spatial Equations

by TopHat



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: F/M, His Kids Inherited It, Multi, Number Boys Being Dicks to One Another, Number Man has a Type, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHat/pseuds/TopHat
Summary: Missy wakes up and does some damage control with her partners
Relationships: Missy Biron | Vista/The Number Boys
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Complex Spatial Equations

Life in the Wynn household had a very specific rhythm.  
  
Every morning Missy woke up with two sets of arms around her, one around her stomach from behind and the other settled low on her back, both gently pulling her close. Those arms were always different from the ones she went to sleep in. Different, but not unfamiliar. For a few minutes she would enjoy the sensation, settled between a pair of near-identical forms, soaking in the warmth.  
  
Eventually nature would call and she’d untangle herself from the Kurts and head for the bathroom, or she’d feel one of the Kurts wake up next to her with a minute twitch of awareness and get up with him, or an already-awake Kurt who had been lying in bed waiting for her to get up would squeeze a little tighter, pull her into his chest, and whisper, “Morning.”  
  
It was the moments of improvisation that made the hassle of five boyfriends worth it.  
  
“Hrrrmgh,” Missy replied, tucking her head into his shoulder. Jeanne and Kurt-the-oldest got up at the crack of fuck-off o’clock, and once the younger Kurts realized that Missy wasn’t about that life they adjusted their schedules to something a little more sane. It’d been a sweet little gesture, even if the three missing forms meant that something was still going on in the background.  
  
“We should get up,” he muttered, one hand traveling down to remove his brother’s hands from her waist. Cool morning air raised goose pimples on her skin, smoothed some by scar-Kurt’s wandering fingers.  
  
She made a noise into the crook of his neck, pressing a short kiss to the shiny white scar that distinguished him from his siblings before sitting up. “We won’t be getting anywhere with that. Come on, let’s see what’s for breakfast.”  
  
A short shower and a change of clothes later and the two of them were in the living room, where two Kurts were eating. Jewelry-Kurt and watch-Kurt were tearing through the eggs, bacon, and roast vegetables while flower-Kurt washed his dishes in the kitchenette.  
  
As they entered, six pairs of eyes and glasses turned towards Missy and scar-Kurt. “Morning.”  
  
Missy nodded back, smiling at each before settling on flower-Kurt, who wasn’t quite as stone-faced as the others. “Tired?”  
  
He shrugged, placing the plate on the drying rack and turning around to lean against the counter. “A little.” His eyes flicked over her shoulder. To scar-Kurt. “Someone slept in for an hour and didn’t take me off-shift.”  
  
“That wasn’t very fair,” Missy said, walking over to flower-Kurt and pointedly ignoring the sudden spike of interest among the other three boys. “Let me make it up to you.”  
  
All things considered, the kiss wasn’t all that. Missy had gotten used to engaging in a little more physical contact than she was used to in relationships, a factor of having five times as many people to touch and who wanted to touch. Though kisses were still kisses, they became less butterflies and more warm glow when you showered them down with abandon.  
  
That said, context mattered.  
  
After a few seconds, Missy broke off. “Get some sleep.”  
  
Flower-Kurt nodded mutely, moving past her to the bedroom. Missy watched him go, then turned to scar-Kurt. Scar-Kurt looked between jewelry-Kurt and watch-Kurt, searching for sympathy and finding none. After swallowing a mouthful of food, scar-Kurt put down his fork and adjusted his glasses.  
  
“He would’ve fallen asleep before you woke up,” scar-Kurt said. “You would’ve spent more time in bed and he wouldn’t have been conscious for it. This way he gets to see you before going to sleep, I get a little more time, and-”  
  
“If you say everybody wins I’m going to slap you,” Missy interrupted.  
  
Scar-Kurt stopped talking.  
  
She sighed. “I don’t win. I don’t get to enjoy waking up in bed with the people I love. I don’t get to enjoy watching you sleep. Instead I get to see my partners snipe at each other like jealous little children who don’t know how to share and believe that an eye for an eye is fair, no matter how many other people are involved.” Missy paused, letting the words think in. “Does that sound like winning?”  
  
Scar-Kurt stared at his plate and didn’t respond.  
  
Jewelry-Kurt glanced at watch-Kurt, who nodded once, and jewelry-Kurt put down his fork.  
  
“We think it’s winning,” jewelry-Kurt said, words careful and measured. “We didn’t account for you. We’ll talk about it.”  
  
Missy rolled her eyes. “Romantic. Tell me when you come to a conclusion, and until then let’s not try to undercut one another in the name of the greater good.” She went back over to the table and settled into a chair next to scar-Kurt, who glanced warily at her. Missy stole a piece of his bacon (drawing a small smile from him) and nodded at watch-Kurt. “What does your older brother have for us today?”  
  
Watch-Kurt promptly launched into the briefing, listing off projects, potential threats, and Thinktank assessments of both. Jewelry-Kurt hammered away at a laptop while sneaking bites of breakfast between keystrokes, occasionally calling out notes about how the trading dollar was doing. Scar-Kurt remained silent, but as Missy attempted to steal more of his breakfast a little life returned to his eyes.  
  
Maintaining a schedule took effort. It took all parties involved wanting a normal, sharing an idea of what that was, and sacrificing for the sake of that dream. Easy in theory, difficult to practice, and not made easier by the Thinkers involved. Little things mattered to the younger Kurts, things as small as minutes, and they had all of the tools necessary to keep track of the grievances with none of the skills needed to disregard them. There Missy did the heavy lifting, forcing the different Kurts to talk to one another instead of relying on similarity to solve their problems, to take a look at why they were doing things instead of defaulting to math, to show a little vulnerability to one another.  
  
“In short, we’re on call for the day,” jewelry-Kurt said, closing his laptop. “That and currency manipulation.”  
  
“We have the day off,” watch-Kurt clarified, leaning back in his chair.  
  
Missy bumped her chest and burped, deep and echoey. “Movies?”  
  
“Not that much of a day-off,” jewelry-Kurt said, collecting the plates and heading to the sink. “Jeanne and Kurt might need back-up, so only one of us would be able to go.” He looked over his shoulder and nodded at Missy. “They’d want to get there fast, too.”  
  
She shrugged. “I was thinking we’d stay in, actually.”  
  
Watch-Kurt fell backwards out of his chair, limbs spinning into motion to catch him mid-fall and push off the ground, while scar-Kurt simply vaulted over the table and started sprinting, both disappearing into the hallway to the living room. Seconds later the sounds of bodies hitting walls echoed out after them, along with indistinct cursing.  
  
“You did that on purpose,” jewelry-Kurt observed.  
  
Missy smiled, getting up and heading over to the coffee machine. “They can sit on the floor. You’re with me on the couch.” She poured herself a cup with one hand and poked him in the ribs, provoking a small jump. “Call it a reward for good behavior.”  
  
He put the last plate on the rack, dried his hands, and started for the living room. Somewhere between steps his hand found hers, and together they walked towards the living room.  
  
It was a lot of work, keeping up normal, and Missy wouldn’t stop for the world.


End file.
